“If you’re an Elder, aren’t you the authority?”

Roxanne’s question was a reasonable one, and it helped me to shift my mind from the way her lashes curved over the rounds of her cheeks when she looked down to a topic more relevant to our meeting.

“In some ways, yes,” I said slowly, thinking carefully about how to explain. “However, my brother made me Elder with a blood-to-blood ritual. It is ancient practice used in rare circumstances when imminent death or danger necessitates a transfer of Elderhood to a blood relative. Traditionally and in almost all cases, Elderhood is bestowed by the power of the Council. I will not have the full power of Elder, nor the true authority until I am granted with such by the Council.”

“But I thought your brother abdicated because he was in love,” Roxanne said quietly. I was enveloped into the lush greenery of her eyes as she locked her gaze on mine.

“He did,” I replied with equal softness. “And it is for that reason I may not be made a true Elder after all. The Council may choose to name another as such.”

Her lips moved as though she was on the verge of speaking, but nothing came out except a slow breath. I could smell her sweetness from across the table just as potently as I had the last time we’d met. Had I not been chained and shackled, I probably wouldn’t have been able to stop myself from leaping forward and taking her mouth as my own with the kiss we’d almost shared.

Unfortunately, that was not an option.

“Those are my demands,” I said coarsely, drawing our conversation back to the initial topic.

Confusion crossed Roxanne’s graceful features for a brief moment before understanding filled in the gaps. She nodded and tapped a long, feminine fingernail on the file in front of her. “So you wish to be released, along with your warriors, and provided a ship to collect stranded A’li-uud before returning to your planet?” she confirmed.

“Yes.”

“And that will ensure a truce?”

My brows furrowed together. “No,” I said. “That will ensure I return to those with authority to agree to a truce.”

She leaned back a bit, flattening the sheet of raven hair behind her against the chair’s backrest, and pressed the pad of her index finger to one corner of her mouth. She had returned to her no-nonsense, businesslike demeanor, and I realized the purposeful look on her face stimulated me just as much as the innocence. Determination and stern persistence radiated from her in ripe waves. I could see in her the makings of a good Montemban warrior.

“I’m sorry, Dane,” she said steadily. “I don’t think my superiors are going to go for that.”

“Your superiors have no choice,” I retorted a little snappishly.

Something flashed across her face, a wisp of temper or perhaps even defensiveness for her compatriots. Her sensual lips flattened into a thin line, and her gemstone eyes turned to razors. Her tone, however, remained casual.

“There are two in this room, and only one is free to come and go as she pleases,” she pointed out. If her face hadn’t been shadowed with anger, it would have been a simple observation. “I believe, sir, you are the one with no choice.”

Had she been one of my warriors, I would have thrown her in a cell for a month as punishment for her insubordination. Had she been one of my citizens, I would have ordered her two weeks of hard labor in the fields for disrespect to an Elder. Had I not been restrained, I would have thrown her onto the table and shown her just how many choices I had. As I was at the mercy of her and the soldiers outside the door, however, I merely growled and tried to readjust my sudden erection by shuffling my hips from side to side in the chair.

The growl seemed to have an effect on her. The divots of her collarbone, which were visible over the squared neckline of her blouse, flowered with a whisper of pink, and her fragile jaw loosened just enough to drop her lower lip open. Her high-handed poise slipped for an instant and gave way to the innocence beneath, stealing her control and gifting it back to me. I took it greedily and tried to ignore the pulsing in my groin.

“My demands are non-negotiable,” I said, my voice nearly as low as my growl had been. “Either you will grant them, or you will stand aside and allow the tirade to continue until every last human has been destroyed.”

Roxanne’s chest lifted and fell in rapid succession as she breathed short, shallow breaths. Whether they were borne of fear or something else, I couldn’t be sure, but I didn’t ask. I held my gaze firmly on hers and silently impressed upon her how serious I was. After nearly a minute, she brushed a hand through her long midnight tresses and cleared her throat.

“I understand what you’re saying,” she replied with measured calm. “What I don’t understand is why.”

“I told you. I must return to Albaterra to meet with the Council about your peace treaty.”

“No, I know that,” she said hurriedly, waving a dismissive hand. “I meant I don’t understand why you intend to continue attacking us, or why you attacked us in the first place.”

This surprised me into momentary silence, and I blinked at her several times before compiling an answer. “I assumed you knew the reason for that already. Humans found out about us and brought that knowledge back to Earth.”

“Because you let them.”

Again, I was surprised. “Of course we did. We are not a race to kill for the sake of killing,” I said.

Her dark eyebrows shot up to such a height that they nearly disappeared into her hairline, and she pulled her head back as though stunned or repulsed. “What do you think you’re doing right now?” she cried. Her voice was high-pitched and disbelieving. “What are A’li-uud all around the world killing for at this very moment, if not just for the sake of killing?”

“The Council has studied humans for a millennium. They have witnessed the atrocities, and the destruction humanity is capable of doing to its own species. To believe humans would discover a race of beings and a planet more prosperous and renewable than Earth without attempting to invade and conquer for themselves would be, the Elders feel, naïve. We were ordered to eliminate the threat before the risk became imminent.”

“You don’t see how paranoid that is?” Roxanne demanded. She actually gripped the edge of the table as she spoke, her knuckles turning white with intensity. “And how impetuously preemptive? Not to mention savage!”

“I am a warrior, a servant to my Elder and the Council. I do as I am bidden,” I answered loftily.

She shook her head. “No, you’re not. Maybe you were just a warrior when you were sent here, but you’re an Elder now. You have some power.” I stilled at her words. I had spent so many years in service to my father, and then my brother that I’d forgotten I was now an authority in the heat of our discussion. She pressed on relentlessly. “Do you really agree with all of this? Do you really think this bloodshed is a necessary evil?”

For the first time since arriving on Earth—and, in fact, the first time in my life—I questioned the Council. As the weight of her incredulity burdened my shoulders, I allowed myself to consider the possibility that, perhaps, our wise government had chosen a path to the detriment of us all.

“I cannot answer that. I have not had enough time to think about it,” I told her. “Whatever their failings, the Council exists to ensure the safety and well-being of our race. It is not in the A’li-uud nature to doubt the pillars of our peaceful world. Nothing has ever prompted me to doubt before. You are the first.”

“I don’t believe you support this,” she said stubbornly. Her creamy-white face was twisted in a grimace of distaste. “I don’t even think you need to think about it. I believe you know in your heart right now, at this very minute, that what you were ordered to do is very, very wrong.”

A strange tingling suddenly spiked the hairs on the back of my neck, but I ignored the sensation. “Either way,” I said tersely, “the war will not end unless I can get to the Council. I am going to need that ship.”